


Years, Seconds, Forever

by OldandKinky



Series: Tumblr Prompts [7]
Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Anal Fingering, Bad Decisions, Betrayal, Bondage, Crying, Dark Yennefer, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Established Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion, F/M, Heartbreak, Hurt Jaskier | Dandelion, Hurt No Comfort, I Don't Even Know, I have No Excuse, Jaskier | Dandelion Whump, M/M, Magic, Not Yennefer friendly, POV Jaskier | Dandelion, Painful Sex, Past Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, Pegging, Prostate Milking, Rape, Vomiting, like at all, magic dildo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-14
Updated: 2021-03-14
Packaged: 2021-03-22 21:29:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,084
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30045030
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OldandKinky/pseuds/OldandKinky
Summary: Trust takes years to build, seconds to break, and forever to repair.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion, Jaskier | Dandelion/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg
Series: Tumblr Prompts [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2200035
Comments: 10
Kudos: 70





	Years, Seconds, Forever

**Author's Note:**

> Anonymous asked: "look, i don't know exactly what i want but noncon-y yenskier with pegging??? geralt can be there"
> 
> Fair warning, this is NOT Yen friendly in any way. I have no really explanation or excuse for this.

This must be some sort of nightmare, Jaskier thinks, hands twisting in their bonds. Either that, or he's drunk out of his mind in an alley somewhere, his alcohol soaked brain conjuring up a truly hellish scenario. Maybe he even got injured on a hunt, breathed in some hallucinogenic or something of the sort. Those are the only valid explanations for what is happening.

He hadn't been suspicious when Geralt asked to tie him up. They've done it before, and Jaskier thoroughly enjoyed himself, so of course he said yes. Geralt had smiled faintly and proceeded to secure Jaskier to the bedposts, face down and bum up, and Jaskier was excited, filled with anticipation. Geralt knows how much he can take, knows his limits and his preferences, and Jaskier feels safe with him.

That might have been a mistake.

As soon as Geralt was done, he stroked a calloused hand over Jaskier's back, and then he turned to the door and said, "Come in."

Yennefer walked in, wearing a curious expression, and Jaskier's stomach dropped.

"Wh- What's going on?" He twists in his bonds again, trying to hide, but it's futile. Geralt's knotwork is impeccable, and he has nowhere to go. "Geralt? Darling, what's she doing here?"

Geralt doesn't answer. He turns away and goes to stand before Yennefer, and Jaskier cranes his neck, trying to see. Geralt's shoulders are tight. "Just this once, and then you leave," he says quietly, and the mage rolls her eyes.

"Yes, yes, I remember the terms. Do  _ you _ remember them? You  _ do not _ intervene, no matter what happens." Geralt makes a noise, and Yennefer pats his arm. "Don't worry, I won't damage him."

Geralt hums, and Jaskier knows it's his unhappy hum. That's… a small comfort at least. The Witcher steps aside, moves to sit in one of the chairs by the fireplace. His face is as unreadable as ever.

Yennefer claps her hands and Jaskier jumps. She smiles. "Well, little bard, it seems like you're going to pay off a debt."

"What? I don't- Geralt, what's going on?"

The mage takes hold of his chin, forcing him to look at her. "You will not talk to him until I say so, do you understand? For now, he's  _ not _ here."

"I don't-"

"Your Witcher needed a potion, bard. His little Child Surprise was deadly ill, you see, and he  _ desperately _ needed my help. I had to demand payment, of course."

What the hell. "He wouldn't." His voice sounds faint, and even as he says it he knows it's not true. To save Ciri, Geralt would do almost anything.

Yennefer chuckles. "We both know that's not true." She sits on the bed beside him, and it's only the ropes that keep him from tumbling straight off the bed. The mage smirks. "I'm not going to harm you, bard."

"Then what  _ the fuck _ do you want from me?!"

She leans down, and there's something mean and hungry in her violet eyes. "I'm going to fuck you, Jaskier, and I'm going to make Geralt watch."

Cold dread seeps into his gut, and he tries moving away from her again. "No, don't, don't do that, I'm sure we can find an alternative-"

Yennefer moves her hand, and the air around Jaskier crackles with chaos. All of a sudden he can't… Fuck, he can't  _ move _ , she's holding him still, and Jaskier panics. "Don't make this harder on yourself than it has to be," she says as she gets to her feet and moves out of his line of sight, and Jaskier can't fucking breathe.

"Please don't, please, Yennefer, stop,  _ please _ , please don't-"

Her hand is between his legs, taking hold of his balls just this side of too firmly, and his pleas cut off abruptly. "Do you always beg so prettily, little bard? I can see why Geralt keeps you around." She releases him again, her hand moving up, between his cheeks, one finger gently prodding at his hole. She hums. "Gods, look at how tight you are. I am genuinely surprised. After all we both know Geralt packs quite the punch." She chuckles, amused, and Jaskier feels like he's going to be sick.

Yennefer works surprisingly quickly. There is oil, and then one of her slik fingers forces itself into him. Jaskier whimpers; he still can't move, forced to just lie there and take it, but he can make noise at least. A dark, vicious part of him thinks that that's a comfort - at least she didn't take away his voice.

One finger becomes two, then three, and now she curls them, searching, and Jaskier can't stop the moan that falls from his lips when she finds his sweet spot. Again, Yennefer chuckles. "There, isn't that nice?" She rubs harder, and harder, and then it  _ hurts _ and Jaskier is screaming, and there's a noise behind them.

Yennefer's hand disappears, far too quickly but at least the horrible pressure is gone, and Jaskier is left shaking and gasping. It takes him a moment to make sense of the sounds behind him.

"You said you wouldn't harm him!"

"And I'm not! A little pain hasn't killed anyone. You of all people should know that. Now sit down and shut up, or we're going to have a problem."

Silence, and then the sound of a chair being righted, of Geralt dropping heavily into it. Yennefer hums, pleased.

"Now, where were we?"

Jaskier loses himself. The mage continues her assault on his sweet spot, barely giving him time to breathe, and even though it hurts and he just wants it to stop, she forces an orgasm out of him, and then keeps going, making him spill over and over. He has been milked before and enjoyed it immensely, but this? This is torture and he just wants it to end.

When he's not screaming and begging, he's sobbing quietly into the sheets, until finally Yennefer pulls her fingers free with a pleased hum. "Not so tight anymore," she says blithely, pulling his cheeks apart, and even though he knows that she must be showing the results of her work to Geralt, he can't be bothered. All he can focus on is breathing, and on the fact that it doesn't hurt any more.

There's some shuffling behind him, but it's all hazy, and he doesn't notice the weight on the mattress behind him until Yennefer takes hold of his hips. The bare skin of her thighs presses against his own, and he slams back into full awareness. "Wha-"

"Did you think that was it, Jaskier?" She still sounds so amused, and Jaskier thinks that if he never has to hear her fucking voice again it'll be too early.

There's a heavy weight between his cheeks, and it takes his tired brain a moment to understand the sensation. It's a dick, it must be, and by the feel of it it must be big.

"I told you I was going to fuck you," Yennefer says, and then she pulls back and the dick slides along Jaskier's crack, until the head of it is pressed against his hole. "Breathe, little bard," she says, and then she's pushing in and Jaskier screeches as pain rips up his spine.

It's too much, too thick, and he's not nearly prepared enough. The pain radiates through his pelvis, burns down his thighs, and he screams and sobs and tries to twist away from the intrusion but he  _ can't _ . Yennefer stops, at least, giving him a moment to adjust, and Jaskier pants and cries. If he could move, he would be shaking.

He can hear his blood rushing in his ears, and beyond that, there's a strange rumbling noise. It takes him far too long to recognise it as Geralt growling, livid at what he has to witness. Yennefer chuckles. "Oh, someone's unhappy, wouldn't you say, bard?"

Jaskier whimpers. "Please stop," he begs again, voice choked with tears, "you're hurting me."

"Well," she says, patting his hip gently, "that's too bad, isn't it?"

And then she moves.

It hurts. It doesn't stop hurting, and she doesn't release him from her hold, and Jaskier screams and screams until he can't any more. A part of him wonders what the people downstairs are thinking. Surely they must hear the ruckus he's causing, but no one is coming to his aid.

Certainly not Geralt.

The room has gone deathly silent, the slap of flesh against flesh and his hoarse whimpers aside, and that is the worst part of this, the knowledge that Geralt is watching all of this happen, and does nothing.

Yennefer's thrusts come quicker now, and then she changes the angle, and Jaskier cries out when it- It doesn't hurt. She hits his sweet spot, and it should hurt like hell  _ but it doesn't _ , and before Jaskier can bite his lip on it, he moans. The mage laughs breathlessly.

"There you go, bard. Think you have one more in you."

She's right, and Jaskier wants to die. By the time she makes him come on her cock, he is completely incoherent, his body well past its limits. Yennefer fucks into him a couple of times more before she curses, her nails digging into his hips. Jaskier assumes that she came.

The drag of the phallus as she pulls it free is agony, but Jaskier barely twitches.  _ Oh _ , he thinks dimly as his fingers move,  _ spell is gone. _

Behind him, fabric shifts, and what feels like barely a moment later Yennefer is at the door. "Consider our business concluded," she says to Geralt, and then she's gone.

Geralt is by his side in a flash, hands that shake more than Jaskier has ever seen - even when the Witcher's guts had been threatening to fall out, his hands had been steady - pulling at the knots to free him. Jaskier just watches, his arse throbbing painfully in time with his heartbeat. Finally Geralt has worked them all free, and it's only then that Jaskier realises the man is crying, is speaking to him.

"... so sorry, Jaskier, I'm so sorry, it should've been me, forgive me, I'm sorry…"

Jaskier tunes him out. It's easy, his body trying to drag him into unconsciousness. He doesn't let it but he closes his eyes and lets Geralt's rambling pass over him like water. After a while, he drifts into sleep like that.

* * *

Jaskier awakes to light falling across where his hand rests on the mattress, bright sunlight that warms his skin. He blinks at his hand for a moment. There are rope marks around his wrist, and the previous night comes rushing back.

He sobs, tears filling his eyes within seconds, and between one blink and the next, Geralt is there, looking concerned.

Jaskier flinches back, despite the way his body screams at him at the movement.

"Jaskier," Geralt says, softly, in the tone of voice usually reserved for Roach.

"Don't touch me," he hisses, and he knows he must stink of fear, judging by the slight downturn of Geralt's lips. He doesn't care. "How could you," he asks, barely above a whisper. "How could you do that to me? I  _ trusted _ you."

The Witcher looks like he, too, is about to cry again, and Jaskier wants to hit him. "I'm sorry, Jaskier, I can't- I never should have agreed. I didn't know-"

There's a lump in Jaskier's throat, a lump made of anger and pain and betrayal, of love and devotion scorned, and he rolls over even as his arse throbs excruciatingly, away from Geralt. He heaves, and then he vomits over the edge of the bed. There's not much in his stomach, but the heaving doesn't stop and he's bawling, he's screaming, and when he finally stops, the room is silent like the grave.

"Get out," he breathes finally, and he can hear Geralt startle.

"Jask-"

"Get  _ out _ , I don't- I can't bear to even be in the same room as you." He squeezes his eyes shut, and he's pretty sure the sharp pain he feels in his chest is his heart breaking. " _ Please _ . Just… go."

Geralt does, finally. He doesn't take much, just his cloak and a dagger, and Jaskier lays on his side, staring at the swords propped up against the wall beside the door.

"I loved you," he tells the swords, the silent room. "I loved you more than anyone in the world." There are tears on his face again, on the pillow under his head. Everything hurts, but nothing hurts as badly as his heart.

**Author's Note:**

> [Tumblr](https://oldandkinky.tumblr.com/)


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